


Remembrance of Things Past

by DrBlueneck



Series: To you, 2000 Years From Now [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Depressed Eren Yeager, Gen, Older Eren Yeager, POV Second Person, Younger Mikasa Ackerman, brief mention of Eren's and Mikasa's families, everybody needs a hug, very brief allusion to cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrBlueneck/pseuds/DrBlueneck
Summary: They once asked who Mikasa was – he cried, but didn’t understand why.(This is the story of a man who once lived and died, only to be reborn with a past that keeps haunting him.)





	Remembrance of Things Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete self-indulgence, because SNK is fucking with my head, and there is never enough reincarnation fics!
> 
> Theme song for this piece: Sister, by Haux. (I highly recommand you to give it a listen)

 

 

_Someday, we’ll meet up again. I’ll find you._

 

 

 

 

You were brought crying and kicking into this new world, mouth wide open and tiny hands clenched into tight fists that waved angrily around and caught your new father on the chin.

You don’t remember, but there was this searing pain running through your body – your skin felt too tight on your body, ready to burst at the seams, and your only outlet was to scream and tell this new, peaceful world how unhappy and sad you were.

Then you grew up –  _of course you did_  – and the pain ebbed away as you got used to this new skin and flesh. Dreams –  _memories_ – plagued you though you could never quite remember them when you woke up in tears, scrambling onto your father and mother’s bed, hiding under the covers from gigantic monsters whose teeth showed under perpetually stretched lips.

Sometimes, your parents would look at you with confused eyes when you talk – zoning out and whispering about Titans and walls and death. They were scared but never said it out loud, and would forget about it the next second as you’d jolt out of whatever it was you were thinking, going back to your cheerful self.

 

_(They once asked who Mikasa was – you cried, but didn’t understand why.)_

 

And years passed, and memories blurred into dreams, and dreams were forgotten. Sometimes, in the street, you caught yourself staring hard at faces, as if searching for someone. There was this feeling that you grew familiar with – like the world was growing in your chest, and threatened to blow at any moment. In those times, when the feeling was too much to bear and you couldn’t breathe, you’d look up at the sky, standing on your tiptoes as if if you stood inches taller, maybe you’d reach it.

The sky – be it blue, grey, or starless – always made you feel at peace, and you always wondered if somewhere, someone would be standing like you, heart beating in their throat, counting backwards from twenty and wishing for wings to burst from your back to just… fly away.

The more time passed and the more caged you felt – this feeling of uneasiness in your own skin, the feeling of not belonging, the restlessness settled deep in your bones…

But you went on – trudged through life with sheer stubbornness, like you always did. You played pretend ( _everything is fine, nothing is wrong, I’m okay_ ), tried filling the void by losing yourself inside other people ( _disgruntled when the far away thought of swallowing them came to you, wondering if maybe this way you’d feel whole again_ ).

Nothing ever worked, but you grew used to it, and walked around in a perpetual daze ( _who am I? Who am I? who am I, who am I, who am I?…_ )

Friends called it the blues, doctors called it anxiety.

You called it insanity, but kept quiet about it.

And then—

“Eren?”

—you meet her. Dark hair falling into darker eyes, pale lips slightly open in disbelief, a hand already rising as if to touch you only to limply fall back at her sides.

“Mi… kasa.”

And the world falls back on its axis – and the broken pieces come back together – and you don’t feel so alone anymore.

 

 

 

 

She’s younger than you this time around. Only a teenager, barely out of middle school but eyes already too old to fit in such a young face. She has two brothers, both older – after she told you that, an awkward silence fell at your table. You remember – yet you don’t, really. How are you supposed to talk to someone you never knew in this life, yet was so important to you in another?

Her eyes try to stay on her hot chocolate, but often stray towards yours, and there’s something like longing written on her face. You think it’s maybe the same one that’s etched on yours, fingers gripping your cup hard in fear of losing yourself to the  _need_  – the need to pull her close, to touch her, to make sure she’s real and that you’re not completely alone in this madness.

Mikasa makes the decision for you, her feet hooking around your ankles.

“It’s okay,” she says in a small voice. “I’m scared too.”

With that, your shoulders slump forward and a wry smile twists your lips.

“Did you meet others… like us?”

A shake of the head, and a muttered confession, “I thought I was crazy. Still wonder if I am.” Her hold on your ankles tightens, and you scoot closer to her as if to confirm you’re real.

The both of you don’t care what it looks like to the other customers glancing at your table – a man in his mid-twenties getting too close for comfort to a young girl who doesn’t look like him in the slightest.

There are tears that won’t fall in Mikasa’s eyes as she holds your stare – something akin to pity and understanding in her almond-shape eyes. “You’ve been alone for so much longer than me… I’m so sorry we couldn’t meet earlier.”

You don’t remember her being so sensitive, and don’t know what to do with such an emotional Mikasa. Your body remembers though – your hand comes up and slides up her nape before your fingers sank in her hair, ruffling it with all your might. She doesn’t look impress, but the pain and guilt has left her face.

“Don’t be an idiot – stop worrying about me. I’m the adult. I should do the worrying!”

Dainty fingers slide through her hair, putting it back in place. It was weird to associate this young, frail girl to the fierce one you – or rather, the  _other you_  – once grew up with.

“But you’re  _Eren_ ,” she says with a strong emphasis on your name. “I’ll always worry about you.”

But you’re not. It’s true – you’re Eric Hermann, with a job you don’t like and student loans you have to pay back. You’re not Eren – you don’t have the green eyes that look past you in your dreams, you don’t have the muscles needed to fight against monsters, and you certainly don’t transform into one.

Like this girl is not Eren’s Mikasa – she looks like her, true, but lacks the assertiveness of the woman who had pledged her life to who you once were.

It’s confusing, and you’d rather not think about all that. So you just wordlessly give her your cell, expecting her to punched her number in. She doesn’t ask questions, and seems relieved to have a way to contact you.

She doesn’t send herself a text though, nor does she ask you to. You’re grateful that she would not pressure you into seeing each other again. And maybe she’s letting herself an out, too – a possibility to leave this forgotten world behind now that you’re both moderately sure your minds aren’t playing tricks on you two.

When you part ways a bit later, she stares at you with unreadable eyes. ( _You can’t help but wonder if that’s what you looked like younger, when you would talk about Titans and walls and death as your parents would stand there with confusion in their eyes._ )

“Thank you.”

“What for?” you ask with a bemused smile.

“Keeping your promise.”

You momentarily frown, but let it go. You know it’s no use trying to understand something the old, dead Mikasa is trying to communicate to the old, dead Eren. Nonetheless, the tight feeling in your chest loosens and a sense of accomplishment rings clear through you. You feel happy, you feel at  _peace_.

The young Mikasa blinks several times, gives you a wide, toothy grin and waves her hand as she goes away, a little spring in her step.

Head tilted back, you look at the sky. For once, it doesn’t feel like the world is growing in-between your ribs. It doesn’t feel like your skin is too tight and ready to crack open.

Eyes trailing after wispy clouds, you can only wonder if this is the beginning of your new life – the one you’ve been waiting for without realizing. The one you were born to live.

 

 

Lighter than you’ve ever felt, you think that at last,  _everything will be okay_.

**Author's Note:**

> I think there will be a follow up with other characters, because I can already feel this little piece growing on me! Please, remember that as a reincarnation fic, this means possible OOC-ness, and highly possible genderswap in future stories! (*cough* ballerina!Levi is plaguing my mind *cough*)
> 
> Also, English isn't my first language, sorry for any glaring grammar mistakes!!


End file.
